


Tell Me a Story

by Anonymous



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, No Incest, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Sugar Baby Peter Parker, Sugar Daddy Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The rest of the world told the rags-to-riches story of two orphan boys saved from the streets, only to realize, in a cruel twist of fate, that their savior was a beast looking to corrupt them, to devour their innocence.Tony told the story of a beast cursed to never love again, of an angel and a demon who broke the curse by loving the beast and letting the beast love them in his own way. With his angel and his demon, he was made ruler of heaven and hell and everything in between, brought order to their nations.





	Tell Me a Story

When Tony Stark plucked a pair of rain-soaked boys from the streets of New York, he didn’t realize they’d be so complicated.

The younger one was no problem. He was soft and pliant, and he loved to be spoiled. He let Tony dress him up in lace panties and cashmere sweaters, let him buy dozens of products to take care of his precious head of curls. Peter was the one who begged with big, Bambi eyes for more. When it stormed, it was Peter who knocked on Tony’s bedroom door, Peter whose cold, shaking body curled into Tony’s side and warmed up, slowly, gradually, until he was burning at the touch.

It was Peter who rutted against Tony’s thigh and cried out, “Daddy!”

The older one was hard and tough, a fighter born and raised on the streets. He greased his hair back with motor oil, despite all the products Tony offered, and refused to upgrade his patchwork motorcycle with a newer, safer model. Harley cut through Tony with his steel-colored eyes, and the only thing he asked for was access to the workshop. When the clock chimed midnight, and in the hours past that, it was Harley who could be found working in silence, side-by-side with Tony in the workshop, channeling all his energy and his frustrations into his work.

It was Harley who rode Tony against the holotable, screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth through his orgasm.

As they grew older, he took them to public events. Tony and his boys, the media said. Peter, pretty Peter, flaunted tailored tuxedos in Pantone’s color of the week. Harley threw Tony’s old suit jackets over designer jeans and t-shirts. Peter liked to hang off of Tony’s arm, dazzling crowds with a wit to match his date’s and accepting all the offered champagne. Harley stuck to shadowy corners and dark balconies, usually, but not always alone, nursing a beer and a sullen face. Neither of them could legally drink, but only a fool denied one of Tony’s boys.

Not even Tony could deny his boys. When Peter complained about how slimy the food tasted at a charity dinner, they left early and ate at a diner across the street. Harley matched Tony bite for bite while Peter nibbled at fries and drank two strawberry milkshakes. When Harley asked to go out to a party like the high schooler he never got to be, Tony swallowed bitter jealousy. He maintained a sullen silence when Harley came home past noon the next day, watched darkly as Peter fussed over the bruises, hickeys, scarring Harley’s neck.

Peter begged, “Please!” when they fuck, and Tony gave it to him every time, just how he needed it. “Pretty boy,” he would whisper. “My sweet boy.” He washed Peter with a silk washcloth afterwards, stayed in bed and cuddled him, listened as Peter talked about his day at school.

Harley usually just took what he wanted, setting lube and a condom down in front of Tony, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Tony always gave in, fought for what was his, growling “Mine!” repeatedly as he bit into Harley’s shoulder. They were both sweaty afterwards, covered in scratches and nasty bruises that never really go away, and it was always Harley who broke away first.

Tony loved Peter, but he needed Harley too. With Peter, he was in heaven, a god cherishing his cherub. Harley reminded him that he belonged in hell.

The media called them the future of Stark Industries, and the boys lived up to the title. 

Peter was unquestionably Tony Stark’s baby boy. With brown curls and big brown eyes, velvet tuxedos and designer clothes, he looked like a younger Tony, a softer and more spoiled version. Not only did he look the part, but he had a mind to match. Peter stole hearts with his banter, sounding like a cheekier Tony, and he designed many of Stark Industries’ newest products.

With Harley, the resemblance was more subtle. With the same height and build, Tony’s old band t-shirts and leather jacket, he looked like a street-hardened Tony, a mechanic in his own right. His hands were calloused from working alongside Tony to make Peter’s visions come to life. Harley was a playboy too, sharpening Tony’s charisma and smirk to match his own image. The media, boys, girls, and business partners ate up his bad boy image.

Tony saved these articles to an encrypted folder he called “Legacy.” He would live on in Peter’s charm and Harley’s snark, Peter’s creativity and Harley’s dedication.

People started to talk as the boys got older. They saw the hickeys on Harley’s neck and the bruises on Peter’s hips. They watched Tony place possessive hands on their shoulders and press kisses to the corners of their mouths. Rumors flew when Peter sat in Tony’s lap, when Harley held his hand, but the Stark boys just ignored the storm, and soon enough, it dissipated.

The rest of the world told the rags-to-riches story of two orphan boys saved from the streets, only to realize, in a cruel twist of fate, that their savior was a beast looking to corrupt them, to devour their innocence.

Harley told the story of a dragon guarding an empire of riches who let two thieves outwit him, who made them heirs to his empire. He groaned at the dragon’s burning touch, melted gladly into the shadows of the dragon’s lair as he watched Peter grow up, watched Peter’s adopted kids grow up.

Peter told the story of a lonely king who turned two outcasts into a princess and a knight. He giggled as the king pressed kisses to his temple, grew up and smiled fondly at his own princes and princesses set to inherit pieces of their iron kingdom.

Tony told the story of a beast cursed to never love again, of an angel and a demon who broke the curse by loving the beast and letting the beast love them in his own way. With his angel and his demon, he was made ruler of heaven and hell and everything in between, brought order to their nations.

He kissed his boys good morning as they watched the sun rise over their kingdom. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they ever needed. They breathed in unison, sated and content. Maybe everything wasn’t alright; maybe Tony and his two boys would never be alright, but in the quiet of their little room above the city, everything was just a little bit better.


End file.
